Kakashi's Kid
by Silimaira
Summary: I wasn't asking, but then this guy with gray hair seemed to think I was some sort of answer. . . . SI, Reincarnation, OC
1. Silence

It's a confusing experience, waking up dead. Confusing because, well, the last thing you remembered was falling asleep. An experience because finding yourself in a dark, cramped environment is not exactly normal.

Just really, really, really boring, once the panic and confusion subside. With nothing else to do, I recited times tables and revisited book plots and wondered how my family was coping at the other end of my coma . . . or worse.

Occasionally I heard voices, but they might have been my imagination trying to keep me optimistic. Still, I was careful to move my sluggish body every time I thought I heard something. I was very much ready to wake up.

I was, naturally, born ready.

I was driven out of my thoughts by a muffled scream and the creepiest squeezing sensation forgotten by mankind. _What on earth_, I remember thinking, and that was all I thought for a very long time as my body was squished and pushed into the strangest positions. The squeezing blossomed into full-out pain a few times and I kicked satisfactorily, registering that there was _something_ to kick. There was another minute of mad scrambling and horrible pain, and then it all stopped.

"That light is killing me!" I yelled, but it came out as, "WaaaAAAA!"

I choked. Something whacked my back.

The muffled screaming turned into sobs and then back into screaming. _This isn't happening_, I thought._ This isn't happening. _

I was poked and prodded and eventually fell asleep, ruing the day I was born.

* * *

Unfortunately, I was indeed a newborn baby. I wasn't pleased, but I quickly decided that it was better than the prison that was my new mother's body.

The nurses came to coo over and feed me. I did my best to focus on them and the room I was in, which was full of blurry cribs and wailing smudges. I tried to cover my ears with my hands. The coos increased.

Shortly after I finished my twelfth bottle, I was whisked down a hallway and given to a lady in a bed. I gave her my best, most vowel-like gurgle. She murmured some random gibberish and then smiled, "Kanachan," the oft-repeated word that really got attention when I gurgled at it. It certainly did this time.

She squealed and prattled on about Kanachan, musume, and kashikoi, looking quite thrilled. I squinted, because she was loud and that really did not seem like gibberish.

She noticed and winced. "Gomen, Kanahime!" she whispered. "Gomen."

I drooled forgivingly on the burp cloth. Japanese, eh? Why was I in modern-day Japan?

I fell asleep to my new mother's heartbeat and soft murmurs. Before my eyes shut fully, I gave her face a good look. Orange hair, pale skin, teary eyes. _Teary_ . . . ?

It was the first and last time I met my mother.

The nurses cuddled me more during the next few days. They exclaimed happily over my continued attempts at speech, but we babies are very good at telling emotions. My caretakers were sad about something, and I had a good suspicion what it was.

* * *

It was The Man that confirmed my worst fears. The nurse that was feeding me saw him and immediately placed the bottle on a table. "Good morning!" she chirped. "You (at least, I thought. I didn't exactly have a dictionary.) . . . Kana-chan?"

The Man nodded stiffly. "Yes." I stared, all bottle-greed forgotten. No way was this guy my father. His hair stuck up too much. He had a lumberjack beard. His hair was _purple_, for crying out loud!

The Man's eyes crinkled in a smile. "Good morning, Wakana-chan." (Or was it hello? I couldn't tell time without windows.)

I burped loudly, trying to get it on him. "Sorry, Kana-chan," the nurse apologized. ". . . Bottle?" I spit it out, wailing. "She's not usually like this," the nurse probably said. She lulled me to sleep as The Man shifted uncomfortably.

It was dark when I woke. I blinked, adjusting to the dim lighting and the pale blob in front of my face. I was rocking gently, but it felt more like walking than anything. My eerily sharp baby senses reported that no, it was not a recognizable heartbeat. I screamed.

My captor froze. Crouched. Fumbled with my sling.

"Hush, Wakana-chan," mumbled The Man, bringing me to his chest. "You'll . . . awake."

A matching wail came from the direction of the ground. I matched our voices as well as I could, enjoying the way The Man's arms tightened. ". . . Bottle?" I employed my new strategy of spitting, but the other baby accepted the peace offering.

Being loud was very tiring.

I woke to sunshine and the rather interesting sensation of a beetle on my nose. The Man shooed it away and offered me my bottle. I accepted. He had to wipe half of it off my face, of course.

He no longer had purple hair. It was now gray and the beard had been replaced by blue skin. I blinked and duly spit up on him, missing the protective cloth. His whacks were probably a little too firm, but whatever. I was squishy.

We were traveling, The Man, another grapefruit, and I. The other child was named "Wakato-kun" and had fuzzy gray hair. He slept in the front sling. I existed in the back sling, slouching through my times tables.

We stayed in several inns, and each time I was careful to charm the living daylights out of anyone else who offered to feed or hold me. I was very pleased with myself. I was not pleased with how the cooing people always referred to The Man as "Otōsan" in horrible baby voices. I didn't mind Wakato being called my otōto as much. He did his fair share of the whining.

I was deliriously appreciative when we passed under a creepily familiar pair of gates to the harmonic accompaniment of my brother's crying. He could hit some pretty high notes. I was so impressed that when The Man gave me a bottle, I drank it straight down. That might have been gratitude for a plain, blue crib, though. You never know.

The Man's friends trooped by to shower him with presents and us children with kisses. They addressed The Man as Kakashi-san. I pouted and glued myself to the visitors, except for the noisy green one. The man in the white robes tickled my chin when I stuck out my tongue. "Hello, Wakana-chan. Your father . . . you . . . cute." I smiled at the Hokage.

Perfect. I was indeed the daughter of Hatake Kakashi, one of the most hated ninja in the world. Dream come true.

Kakashi wasn't the worst father. He responded well to Wakato's hungry cries and talked constantly (baby speech was beneath his dignity) once he figured out it kept us both quiet. I dropped the screaming habit as a reward.

My mouth stayed shut, but my ears remained open.

* * *

"She looks like an Uzumaki with that hair, you know. But she's too laid-back for that."

My father, who had spent half the night rocking an angry baby to sleep, glanced down at me. I gurgled toothlessly, inwardly cackling. I had recently figured out how to ooze Killing Intent, and boooy, did it make Daddy squirm!

"Wakato-kun has enough temper for both of them," Asuma continued obliviously.

Kakashi's eye shifted to his son, who was drooling senselessly onto his—no, my—blanket. "Gah!" My lip trembled as I stared at the contaminated chew toy.

"Share, Wakana-chan," reprimanded our father. I blinked and decided I was tired from my long day of watching my jōnin babysitter. "Wakana-chan seems to be highly intelligent," Kakashi continued as I squirmed into a comfortable position. "She knows a lot of object names and differentiates between people very well."

"She didn't talk while I was here."

"'Guh' is all she ever says. She made more noise the first day I met her." I was proud of my "g" sound, thank you. That was quite advanced for a six-month-old.

* * *

"Maa," said Wakato.

"Mask," corrected Kakashi, glancing at me to see if I cared to display my mental prowess.

"Guh?" I placed a fifth block on my tower and watched as it came tumbling down. "Guh."

Kakashi sighed and went back to entertaining Wakato. "This is my mask," he explained.

"Maa!"

Daddy sighed again. "Mask. Would you like me to take it off?"

"Maa! Maas!"

I rolled my eyes and crawled to the other side of the room to find Guwuh, my stuffed red dog. Guwuh was a birthday present from Pakkun, just like Woo, Kato's white dog. If Kakashi noticed that I was dropping wooden kunai on my toy, he didn't show it.

* * *

"So . . . how was your time with Gai-san?"

Wakato grinned proudly and pointed at himself. "Youth!" He pointed at me. "Unyouth!"

I yawned and stared at the steaming carton in Daddy's hand. "Gwah?"

* * *

"Where, Daddy?"

Kakashi zipped up Wakato's jacket and picked us both up. "Like I said yesterday, you're going to a birthday party. Shikamaru-kun is turning three."

"Maru-kun friend!"

"That's right."

Daddy wouldn't be back until five, so Kato and I holed up in Shika's room after the other kids had gone home. Kato crashed on the futon, but Shika and I were doing something else.

"King me."

"Ugh. Must you beat me every time? I want to learn Shōgi." I'd taught him checkers, he would teach me Shōgi. That had been the agreement.

"This wasn't my idea."

"So—" There was a tap on the window. "Uh-oh."

"It's just your dad. Um, I think my Mom's calling me."

Dad climbed through the window, leaking Killing Intent like a drowning ship. "I hope you're going to explain why the Hokage just happened to mention that you've been talking for months." He was still wearing his ANBU mask. Poor Shika. _Smart_ Shika.

"I—" my lip trembled, "you never asked me, Daddy." Yessiree, years of childishness had made me a better liar than the ninjas themselves. "Waaa!"

* * *

"Daddy!" Kato grinned and let go of my hand, ensuring that Twin Sis was gonna be in huge trouble for picking the locked front door. And finding the Memorial Stone. Which currently had a silver-haired dude standing in front of it.

I froze, suddenly mind-numbingly _certain_ that whoever that person by the stone was, it was _not_ our father. "Wakato, _stop_."

"Buu—!" His eyes widened. "Kana-chan, you're scaring me."

I growled, radiating Killing Intent in sheets. The man portraying our father jumped at us with a drawn kunai, and . . . I collapsed.

* * *

Footsteps. The door creaks open. "Time to get up," says my mother. "Are you awake? Show some life."

"Gwuh." Ah, well.

Wait. Since when did Mom have red hair?

* * *

_~List of translations~_

_Musume: daughter_

_Kashikoi: clever_

_Gomen: sorry_

_Otōsan: father_

_Otōto: little brother_

_And there you have it, the slightly abridged version of my dream two nights ago. 95% true, down to the words themselves. __Kudos to anyone who thought that "Guwuh" sounded anything like Gaara, because I enjoy private jokes._

_If there is interest, I will consider writing a sequel. It probably won't be from a dream, for obvious reasons. Thanks for reading!_


	2. Reticence

Chapter Two

* * *

"Kana-chan? Daddy said to wake you up. Daddy saved us from the mean ninja."

I rubbed my aching temples, too lazy to open my eyes. "Where are we?"

"Daddy's room." Shuriken-patterned quilt. Old team photo on a dresser. No questionable books, due to no free time and two curious children.

Kato climbed up beside me on the bed and cuddled into my side. "You're brave like Daddy."

I snorted. "Not enough." As my brother drifted off, my headache attacked with a vengeance. _Okay, seriously. I am raiding the medicine cabinet._ Carefully, I wriggled out of Wakato's reach (the kid was part octopus) and slid to the floor. Ouch.

"Headache?"

I blinked. Were there usually masked men on the ceiling? "You have quite the talent for Killing Intent, kid. Nearly started a panic, but we're all still alive." He patted my head, then dropped a pill. "Here. This'll help."

I treated him to all the dubiousness I could while I ran a mental scan on his appearance. Headscarf, light brown hair, calm voice, brown eyes. Wait, what. Oh. Right. No mistaking it when the ANBU mask stuck out that much. "You're Kakashi-san's kid, all right," said Genma. "Look, I'm an ANBU. I'm perfectly trustworthy."

_Logistically speaking_, I thought, _Daddy's coworkers, especially the ones his own age, would take any chance they could get to one-up him. Accepting food would just be stupid. On the other hand, eating the chakra pill would get him in trouble and maybe shift . . . why am I hearing this?_

Genma coughed.

"Am I in a genjutsu? Did you _drug me_?"

"Now, hang on a—" He paused. "Sit down before you fall over."

"I don't take orders from—"

"Sit down! Now!" I sat, not expecting an outburst from someone so unflappable. "Listen, little lady, you do _not_ use Killing Intent on your allies. Ever. Do I make myself clear?"

My lower lip quivered traitorously.

"Don't make me repeat myself. We both know you're intelligent."

"It won't happen again," I whispered softly.

"Good girl. Try to calm down before your father gets back."

Had I been a remarkably intelligent toddler, the shouting and subsequent praise would have shocked me into compliance. Slowly, deliberately, I leaned forward and shook out my hair. I placed the pill on the floor. I shut my eyes.

"It's not a soldier pill," Genma said after a few minutes of tolerable silence. "Killing Intent has nothing to do with chakra." _In, out. In, out._ "It's pure negative emotion, and excessive use results in one h—orrible headache."

_In, out. Tremble. In, out. Sigh._ Without looking, I reached down and took the pill. "Thank you, ANBU-san." Genma did not breathe as peacefully as Kato did.

Genma left when Daddy appeared in the window, a jumble of worried, sad, smug, and simple don't-mess-with-my-kids-you-walking-corpse. He stared. I stared. Had he forgotten to cover his Sharingan or was he just that worried?

"I'm sorry, Daddy. I drugged your dog and made Kato-kun come with me. I'm sorry I scared you." _You're brave like Daddy. Such a young, bright, old, lazy girl. So useless_.

"Wakana-chan."

"It was all my fault," I continued. "I endangered us." He hopped over the bed and met my eyes.

"Wakana-chan. You're safe now. That's all that matters." I tackled him.

Because really, it didn't matter if I was weak or irresponsible. It didn't matter that he joked he was going to enroll me in the academy for my little stunt. His eyes said that even if I told him The Truth, I was still his kid.

* * *

The Hokage appeared somewhere in the midst of the mayhem that was Kakashi's "we can't believe you're still alive" party. Dad hadn't ordered us to bed yet, probably to get out of a drinking run. I was amused that half of his presents had been sake. Of course, I was entranced by the pretty bottles and paraded them around the house. Amazing how hard battle-hardened ninjas can blush.

Wakato was sulking in a corner with one of his idol's old masks. Kakashi was hiding in the kitchen, finding plates for his surprise birthday cake. Someone had stuck a few hundred candles in it, but the wax peeled off easily.

The Hokage handed me a colorful box. "Would you give this to your father, Wakana-chan?"

I took the box and shook it carefully. "Who are you?"

"I am Hiruzen Sarutobi, the Hokage." He smiled and glanced around the room, obviously ready to leave. _Tobi is a good boy_?

"Um, uh, I'm Hatake Wakana." I forced the scarring images out of my head. _Stall him_! "Are you my grandfather?" Whoops.

The Sandaime raised an eyebrow. "Why do you ask that?"

"You have white hair," I mumbled, "like Daddy and Kato-kun."

He smiled again. "I'm afraid we are not related. Please relay my heartfelt congratulations to your father, my dear."

I nodded, already planning to sic Kato on our new grandfather.

* * *

"Hello, Kana-chan!" Kato and I exchanged wary glances. "I'm Nao-chan. My teammates and I are going to be watching you today, right?"

I glared at Daddy's retreating back. How dare he leave his children with three twelve-year-olds and a man that looked dead on his feet.

The girl snapped her fingers, catching our attention. "I'm Nao-chan, this is Mozuku-kun, and Bato-san, and Saimaru-sensei. You got that, right?" I forgot their names instantly.

"Where's Daddy?" Kato asked. The jōnin explained that our father would be back by evening. Kato, having never actually been that long without his father, began to wail.

"I go garden?" I wondered hopefully.

The taller kid frowned. "Shouldn't you finish your breakfast?"

"Daddy never makes me finish," I lied. "Garden?"

"Whatever."

Out we trotted. I poked around in the scraggly daisies before I made the next move. "You not ninjas."

"What? Yes, we are. See, forehead protectors."

I stared suspiciously. "Ninjas do cool stuff."

"We can do cool stuff! Look at that target post." I let my jaw drop as the shorter boy swapped places with the log. He switched back. "See? Ninjas."

"I be ninja. You teach?"

The three genin looked at each other and shrugged. "Here," said the girl. "Shape your hands into the seal, right? Let me fix . . . never mind." Was it worrisome that my first picture book had the twelve handseals? Yes. "Now focus your chakra like blah, blah, blah."

I tried a few times, unperturbed by the winks my captors (ahem, babysitters) shared. "Close eyes!" I commanded. I rolled the log over and quickly ran to its original spot. "Now open."

They exchanged snickers. "Good job, Kana-chan."

"Yayyayyay!" I cheered. "I try 'gain." These were honestly stupid kids. Not even the ANBU had shown me jutsu. Any. Ever. Which made me wonder what Daddy had threatened, since ANBU weren't exactly child-friendly.

A few hours of hyperactivity and they were bound to make me take a nap. If they didn't, my collection of ANBU souvenir pills was hidden inside Guwuh.

* * *

"Chōji-kun. Shikamaru-kun. You're here early."

I brushed past Kakashi, grinning like a loon. "You're here! Let's go to my room before Kato-kun—" There was a loud crash from the kitchen, followed by several angry yips. Kakashi disappeared. "Or after," I compromised. "Come on, I don't want to clean up."

Having already been exposed to Kato's uncanny knack for destruction, Shikamaru headed for Kato's and my room. "We brought you a present," he said. "Open it."

It was light, wrapped in green paper with the words "happy birthday" stamped all over. "Is it Shōgi?"

Shikamaru sighed and flopped onto my bedroom floor. "You said you wanted to learn."

"Yes, but—"

"You beat me last week, remember?"

"Only because you let me win."

Shika rolled his eyes, not mentioning how he'd rigged the game and forced me into capturing his pieces. It wasn't that I needed the help. After months of observation and sheer stubborn loss, I was pretty certain I knew all his strategy. He was smart. But then, so was I (and I had a lot more experience to go on), enough that Shikaku himself had offered to play me. I'd refused.

Shikaku scared me more than Yoshino, and that was saying something.

"This is a pawn," Shikamaru began. "It can only move one space forward."

Chōji was halfway through my bowl of oranges when Kato poked his head through the door. "Daddy says come out and be f'endly. He says's rude to hide." Well, wasn't that rich.

"I'll be out as soon as I cream Shikamaru-kun."

Kato blinked at the unfamiliar board, then grinned like a shark. "I bet you loooose," he taunted. "Maru-kun's gonna win again."

Maybe. There was an unprotected spot that I could send my gold general through. If I sacrificed my rook and feinted my silver general, I could probably win. I just didn't care to beat a four-year-old.

"Kōta-kun's here!" Daddy called from the living room.

Kato cheered and zoomed off. I followed more sedately, wondering who Daddy—or Daddy's friends, who seemed to view us kids as troglodyctic midgets, had invited. I wasn't disappointed.

"Hi, I'm Inuzuka Hana, and this is my brother Kiba."

I smiled, showing all my recently acquired teeth. "I'm Hatake Wakana. Nice to meet you." And then because I could, "I hope your booboos get better."

"My what?"

I gestured to my face. "Oh," said Hana, "those are our clan markings. They're tattoos."

I was about to ask what "tattoos" were, and why they were red, and would I get some, but Hana shoved a purple box into my hands. "Happy birthday."

"Um, thank you."

"You're welcome—Kiba! Don't stick your hand in that dog's mouth!" She rushed away, flashing a strained smile. I deposited my gift on a table and found new entertainment: Kato meeting Ino. She was blushing. He was rubbing the back of his neck.

"You're . . . you're . . . you're so _cute_!" Ino squealed. I flinched. Across the room, Daddy twitched. "Daddy!" continued Ino, tugging on her parent's sleeve like a leech on caffeine. "Can I have a cute little brother like Kato-chan, please?"

Close one, Inoichi, close one. Heh, look at Kato's blush.

"I'll ask your mother. Run along and play, sweetheart. I'm going to talk to Kato's father."

Ino nodded, glancing around the room with a predatory gaze. Her eyes seized upon a new victim. "Ooh, you're Kato-chan's little sister!"

Years of low motor function had taught me tolerance, at least. "Yeah," I said shyly. "Who you?" _Kato, you ingrate. Don't you leave me alone, I know where you sleep_.

"Ino. I'm a Yamanaka."

I bit my lip. "Yaka?"

"Just Ino," she compromised. This was not a shallow girl. This was not a girl who would break a friendship over a boy. This was not whom I had expected to meet.

I had long since stopped putting people into boxes; that world had passed. People, I've found, always make their own boxes.

"Hey, brats!" I jerked. "Come on, kids, shake a leg and get in line! You're gonna play some games." Anko, strangely enough, had never made it on our list of babysitters. It might have had something to do with her feeding Kato dango before he had teeth, or maybe how one of her snake summons thought I was a pillow.

"Straight line, midgets. Good." Anko grinned loudly. "Right. Where's a birthday brat?"

Kato looked at me. I looked back. "The older one. Kana-chan."

I stepped forward. "Good girl. Okay, you see that picture on the wall?" _Seriously? This is a sick joke_.

I nodded.

"I'm gonna blindfold you and spin you a couple times, then you're gonna stick these—" she held up a handful of blunt senbon— "in him, 'kay?"

I nodded. She tied the bandana around my eyes. "I'd better get my dango, Kakashi-san," she muttered under her breath. She spun me. _Aaand, welcome to pin the tail on the missing ninja_.

I breathed in. I heard breathing, whispering, one of Kakashi's dogs scratching itself. I breathed out. Heartbeats. Empty space. I threw a senbon. And the rest.

Ino, Kato, and Kōta clapped. I scowled at the outline with the slit headband and slunk behind them. Let's just say I hadn't inherited the family weapons genius, because I'd been aiming for his legs, not everywhere else.

I fail to see how Kato made him die of blood loss.

We ate the birthday cake next, a rather droopy chocolate affair with three candles that took several minutes to defeat. "Might be a wind user," Inoichi commented to Daddy. "Was she a loud baby?" Daddy wisely held his tongue.

To distract them, I announced how nice Daddy was to bake us a cake. The adults in the room promptly froze. The children probably would have found a stray kunai cool, though.

The small talk continued through many random visits from ANBU (Daddy went through everything first) with presents for their darling Hatake kids (one of them brought me an empty sake bottle). We moved on to opening them.

From Hana, wrist weights with decorative flowers. From Kiba, ankle weights with dog bones. All were adjustable, and expensive, if ANBU Deer was to be trusted.

From Ino, a ruffly purple dress that I instantly fell in love with. No, that wasn't quite true.

From Shikamaru, a Shōgi set that had magically re-wrapped itself under my supervision while I was elsewhere, eating cake. Chōji gave Kato a brightly colored game of Go.

Kōta gave us a deluxe set of practice kunai and a lot of chocolates. Yum.

After that, the gifts took a downhill plunge into the world of weapons: kunai, senbon, shuriken, wires, explosive tags, a poisoner's chemistry set. Kato lodged one of the shuriken in the ceiling fan and we didn't see the weapons outside of a scroll again.

From Daddy, Kato received a green mask that he would probably never remove. I got a dark blue scarf that I actually did love.

Daddy told us we would start sword training soon. I asked if we had to throw them, and he laughed.

I think I love my daddy.

* * *

_~So, yes, I suppose I am continuing this. I hope you don__'t mind the sketchy, unreliable narration, 'cause it's not likely to change._

_For the record, Kana is the elder of the twins. Kato is the younger one._

_Ideas and comments are welcomed. Weird ideas and predictions preferred. __Don't expect an update for a while, as I'm going to college and will be unreachable. There _will_ be another chapter, though. __Some things are just too fun to write._

_Thanks for reading!_


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